En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Spoilsport

My familiar ghost again
Comes to see what he can see,
Critic, son of Conscious Brain,
Spying on our privacy.

Slam the window, bolt the door,
Yet he’ll enter in and stay;
In tomorrow’s book he’ll score
Indiscretions of today.

Whispered love and muttered fears,
How their echoes fly about!
None escape his watchful ears,
Every sigh might be a shout.

No kind words nor angry cries
Turn away this grim spoilsport;
No fine lady’s pleading eyes,
Neither love, nor hate, nor … port.

Critic wears no smile of fun,
Speaks no word of blame nor praise,
Counts our kisses one by one,
Notes each gesture, every phrase.

My familiar ghost again
Stands or squats where suits him best;
Critic, son of Conscious Brain,
Listens, watches, takes no rest.

poem by Robert Graves
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Wicket Cricket Critic

If the cricket critics' nagging
Merits stern official gagging
Which I doubt
How would critical ascetics,
With their prosy homiletics,
Shut it out?
And the question then arises:
If more cricketing surprises,
Such as bodyline, begin to threaten cricket,
And another stunt, when sprung,
Call for clicking of the tongue,
Should a cricket critic critically click it?

When the barrackers grow lyric
In a manner most satiric
And profane,
How, one ventures still to wonder,
May the clamor be kept under?
How restrain?
For one barbaric larrik-
In can do a lot of barrack-
In', and cause a lot of worry at the wicket.
But would sportsmen be abusing
Cricket canons in refusing
To supply that cricket critic with a ticket?

As a critic analytic
Of the cricket critics' critic
I would say,
When we criticise their cricket,
Then the players have to stick it,
Come what may.
No specific soporific
May be used; for it is diffic-
Ult to strike a critic partly paralytic.
So there's nothing gained in seeking,
As I know; and I am speaking
As a critic of the cricket critic's critic.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Poets and critics

The poet is a child, emotion ridden.
The critic is a teacher, a check dam.
The poet bursts to cry or weep.
The critic stands there with a whip.
23.09.2000, Palasa

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Poet Fears Failure

The poet fears failure
& so she says
"Hold on pen--
what if the critics
hate me?"
& with that question
she blots out more lines
than any critic could.

The critic is only doing his job:
keeping the poet lonely.
He barks
like a dog at the door
when the master comes home.

It's in his doggy nature.
If he didn't know the poet
for the boss,
he wouldn't bark so loud.

& the poet?
It's in her nature
to fear failure
but not to let that fear
blot out

her lines.

poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

All that a critic, as critic, can give poets is the deadly encouragement that never ceases to remind them of how heavy their inheritance is.

quote by Harold Bloom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Gas Panic!

What tongueless ghost of sin crept through my curtains?
Sailing on a sea of sweat on a stormy night
I think he don't got a name but I can't be certain
And in me he starts to confide

That my family don't seem so familiar
And my enemies all know my name
And if you hear me tap on your window
Yer better get on yer knees and pray panic is on the way

My pulse pumps out a beat to the ghost dancer
My eyes are dead and my throat's like a black hole
And if there's a god would he give another chancer
An hour to sing for his soul

Cos my family don't seem so familiar
And my enemies all know my name
And when you hear me tap on yer window
Yer better get on yer knees and pray panic is on the way

Cos my family don't seem so familiar
And my enemies all know my name
And when you hear me tap on yer window
Then you get on your knees and you better pray
Cos my family don't seem so familiar
And my enemies all know my name
And when you hear me tap on your window
Yer better get on yer knees and pray panic is on the way

Panic is on the way
Panic is on the way
Panic is on the way

song performed by by Oasis from Standing On The Shoulder Of Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Strict It Gets

To challenge oneself,
Isn't fun that's done.
Because,
The critic visits.
And strict it gets.

To challenge oneself,
Isn't fun that's done.
Because,
The critic visits.
And strict it gets.

Stalking as a menace,
Looking for perfection in it.
And...
The critic vists.
And strict it gets.

Stalking as a menace,
Looking for perfection in it.
And...
The critic vists.
And strict it gets.

Picking seeking detail...
To prevail,
And...
The critic visits.
And strict it gets.
Detailed...
The critic visits.
And strict it gets.

Stalking as a menace,
Looking for perfection in it.
And...
The critic vists.
And strict it gets.

To challenge oneself,
Isn't fun that's done.
Because,
The critic visits.
And strict it gets.

Detailed!
The critic visits,
And strict it gets.

Detailed!
The critic visits,
And strict it gets.

Stalking as a menace,
Looking for perfection in it.
And...
The critic vists.
And strict it gets.

Detailed!
The critic visits,
And strict it gets.

Picking seeking detail...
To prevail,
And...
The critic visits.
And strict it gets.
Detailed,
The critic visits.
And strict it gets...
Detailed!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Praise or blame has but a momentary effect on the man whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic on his own works.

quote by John Keats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Unfinished Book

TAKE it, reader, idly passing,
This, like other idle lines;
Take it, critic, great at classing
Subtle genius and its signs:
But, O reader, be thou dumb;
Critic, let no sharp wit come;
For the hand that wrote and blurred
Will not write another word;
And the soul you scorn or prize,
Now than angels is more wise.

Take it, heart of man or woman,
This unfinished broken strain,
Whether it be poor or common
Or the noblest work of brain;
Let that good heart only sit
Now in judgment over it
Tenderly, as we would read,--
Any one, of any creed,
Any churchyard passing by,--
'Sacred to the Memory.

Wholly sacred: even as lingers
Final word, or last look cast.
Or last clasp of life-warm fingers,
Which we knew not was the last.
Or, as we apart do lay,
The day after funeral-day,
Their dear relics, great and small,
Who need nothing--yet win all:
All the best we had and have,
Buried in one silent grave.

All our highest aspirations,
And our closest love of loves;
Our most secret resignations,
Our best work that man approves,
Yet which jealously we keep
In our mute heart's deepest deep.
So of this poor broken song
Let no echoes here prolong:
For the singer's voice is known
In the heaven of heavens alone.

poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Mr Speaker

Wriggles from his captors arms
Mr speaker gets the word and
Running now from the alarms
Speaks his mind free as a bird
Free now to roam around
Stand up straight when he quotes
Spread the word that he has found
Books of verse and scribbled notes
Mister speaker gets the word
(to tell the secrets he has heard)
Speaks so fast his words are slurred
(mister speaker gets the word)
Stands up straight outside my door
I bring you now the words Ive learned
To whom it may concern senor
Tell my friends I have returned
Mister speaker gets the word
(to tell the secrets he has heard)
Speaks so fast his words are slurred
(mister speaker gets the word)
Excitement rages through his brain
Stirred and stirred throughout the years
Not enough time to explain
Eyes of many sighs of fear
Making space from colney hatch lane
Just some poetry my friend
Scuttles past my window frame
Vanishes right round the bend
Mister speaker gets the word
(to tell the secrets he has heard)
Speaks so fast his words are slurred
(mister speaker gets the word)

song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Mr Speaker Gets The Word

Wriggles from his captors arms
Mr speaker gets the word and
Running now from the alarms
Speaks his mind free as a bird
Free now to roam around
Stand up straight when he quotes
Spread the word that he has found
Books of verse and scribbled notes
Mister speaker gets the word
(to tell the secrets he has heard)
Speaks so fast his words are slurred
(mister speaker gets the word)
Stands up straight outside my door
I bring you now the words Ive learned
To whom it may concern senor
Tell my friends I have returned
Mister speaker gets the word
(to tell the secrets he has heard)
Speaks so fast his words are slurred
(mister speaker gets the word)
Excitement rages through his brain
Stirred and stirred throughout the years
Not enough time to explain
Eyes of many sighs of fear
Making space from colney hatch lane
Just some poetry my friend
Scuttles past my window frame
Vanishes right round the bend
Mister speaker gets the word
(to tell the secrets he has heard)
Speaks so fast his words are slurred
(mister speaker gets the word)

song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Ignorance is exuberance

A child, a man, a singer or a critic,
Any can listen and enjoy the music.
Child’s is the highest.
The critic’s is the lowest.
Ignorance drops defects.
25.11.2001, pakd

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

I still think like a critic, and I still analyze films like a critic. However, it's not possible to write criticism if you're making films.

quote by Paul Schrader
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Question

Love, a question
has destroyed you.

I have come back to you
from thorny uncertainty.

I want you straight as
the sword or the road.

But you insist
on keeping a nook
of shadow that I do not want.

My love,
understand me,
I love all of you,
from eyes to feet, to toenails,
inside,
all the brightness, which you kept.

It is I, my love,
who knocks at your door.
It is not the ghost, it is not
the one who once stopped
at your window.
I knock down the door:
I enter your life:
I come to live in your soul:
you cannot cope with me.

You must open door to door,
you must obey me,
you must open your eyes
so that I may search in them,
you must see how I walk
with heavy steps
along all the roads
that, blind, were waiting for me.

Do not fear,
I am yours,
but
I am not the passenger or the beggar,
I am your master,
the one you were waiting for,
and now I enter
your life,
no more to leave it,
love, love, love,
but to stay.

poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The critic has to educate the public; the artist has to educate the critic.

quote by Oscar Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

If That Is Done Now

Today...
Be aware of time,
As it is now.
Be conscious and forgiving,
Of what is done.
As if you have only one opportunity...
To escape, correct or ignore what takes place.

Tomorrow...
Be aware of time,
As it is now.
Be conscious and forgiving,
Of what is done.
As if you have only one opportunity...
To escape, correct or ignore what takes place.

Yesterday...
Wasting it wishing,
You had been more conscious...
Is why you have today.
There is always time to mend and correct...
If that is done now!
Since there is no other time like it is right now.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Performing Arts

Anyone believing,
A sustained career in the performing arts is easy...
Hasn't done it.
Or could if they tried.

There is quite a difference between being entertained,
And entertaining.
It's very similar to the art of writing.
And there is an 'art' to it.

There has to be a love connection.
An emotional committment.
A joy that is heartfelt.
And a devotion that is inseparable.

If those factors aren't there...
Becoming a critic is less involving.
Less challenging.
And requires far less talent!

Being able to use one's body and mind,
Is a gift.
Especially if one has to tolerate...
The creativity expressed coming from critic's lips.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

I like to compare the holiday season with the way a child listens to a favorite story. The pleasure is in the familiar way the story begins, the anticipation of familiar turns it takes, the familiar moments of suspense, and the familiar climax and ending.

quote by Fred Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Escape

{b-side of glam slam}
Snare drum pounds on the 2 and 4
All the party people get on the floor
All the party people get on the floor
Bass
Glam slam (glam slam)
Escape!
Glam slam
Free your mind from this rat race
Glam slam
Escape!
15 minutes aint long enough
To be out your mind in a world so tough
If u wanna escape and truly be
All the crack in compton wont set u free
Come on
Glam slam (slammin)
Free your mind from this rat race
Glam slam
Escape!
U got to be yourself, you gotta be aware
Cuz the ganster - man, he dont give a care
Whether u live, or whether u die
Glam slam escape, gotta give it a try
Glam slam
Free your mind from this rat race
Glam slam (slammin)
Escape!
(party baby) (party baby)
(party baby) (party baby)
(party baby) (party baby)
(where did I hear that before? )
(party baby) (party baby)
Glam slam
Escape!
Everybody trippin on the party bass
However higher u get, is a matter of taste
(party baby) (party baby)
Winner takes all in the hardest race
Dont get on the scale if u aint got the weight
Its more hard 2 love than it is 2 hate
Say
Its more hard 2 love than it is 2 hate
Come on
Its more hard 2 love than it is 2 hate
Yeah
Its more hard 2 love than it is 2 hate
One more
Its more hard 2 love than it is 2 hate
Escape!
Glam slam
Glam slam
Free your mind from this rat race
Glam slam
Escape !

song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Take The Critic

Take the critic and change yourself!
Take the critic and,
Change from negative to positive;
For, you always need a positive character in life.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

When She Cries

No one knows my lady when she's lonely
No one sees the fantasies and fears my lady hides
There are those who've shared her love and laughter
But no one hears my lady when she cries…but me
No one hears my lady when she cries
And when she cries she makes you wanna run
And chase the sun and bring it back
To brighten up a corner of her dark and troubled skies
When she cries
She walks barefoot through the misty mornin'
Dreams of golden yesterdays reflectin' in her eyes
But soon the evenin' shadows crowd around her
Frightening my lady till she cries…for me
Frightening my lady, till she cries
You may have seen her lyin' in your lamplight
And if you've heard her whispered words, it comes as no surprise
So be the one she shares her secret smiles with
But send me back my lady when she cries…for me
My lady's gonna need me when she cries

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!